


Pinch

by soraflye (flitterfly5)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Doctor/Patient, Dying with a Smile, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Some Humor, Terminal Illnesses, Unspoken Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterfly5/pseuds/soraflye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nino is a doctor, and Aiba is just the guy who trims his hair for him once a month, until the day he shows up in the hospital with an incurable brain cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I am not affiliated with Arashi in any way. 
> 
> Previously posted on LJ.

"Good afternoon, Aiba-san, I'm Ninomiya Kazunari, and I'll be your attending physician during your stay here."   
  
That was the first time Nino had ever said more than two words to his drop-dead-gorgeous hairdresser, and he couldn’t believe how utterly detached and  _professional_  he’d managed to sound.   
  
Aiba was running a hand through his handsomely bronzed hair, a roguish grin twisting his lips as he recognized the doctor who had just entered his room.   
  
“It’s you!” he exclaimed, the chocolate eyes dancing delightedly. “My five o’clock wash-and-trim on the fifth of every month! I didn’t know you were a doctor, though. Small world, isn’t it?”   
  
He laughed happily, and played with the hem of his oversized hospital gown. Nino watched him for a moment, mesmerized by the spider-like deftness of those fingers and letting the general hum of the hospital envelope them both in a soothing bath of sound. Neither of them said anything for a while, but it didn’t feel awkward. Aiba kept beaming as if he was a kid in an amusement park instead of a 31-year-old man in the inpatient ward, and Nino had the oddest impression that his patient’s eyes were periodically flicking towards him in an almost flirtatious way.  
  
 _What am I thinking?_  He scolded himself as he hastened to inspect the vitals monitor.  _We barely even know each other.  
  
Even though I go to his shop once a month just to have those lovely fingers run themselves through my hair for one heavenly hour at a time... and to have those eyes, those warm, vivacious eyes stare at me (well, actually, at my hair, but close enough), admire me, and tell me I look beautiful at the end of each visit. _  
  
Nino looked at Aiba, and tried not to think about how giddy the man was capable of making him feel.  
  
 _Ahem..._ He flipped though his clipboard to view his new patient's ER admission notes.  
  
“Do you know the date today, Aiba-san?” he asked matter-of-factly, for the usual mental status check.   
  
“Yes, October 4th, isn’t it?” Aiba’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember. “Ah yes, that’s right! It’s a Monday. I was just signing for a new shipment of perming gels yesterday.” He giggled a little and looked at Nino from under his long lashes. “You know, it’s a pity that sensei never tried perming his hair. Ninomiya-sensei would look _stunning_  with a slightly wavy style…”   
  
Nino ignored that last part. Or more specifically, he ignored the little shooting thrill that last part had sent through his body and flipped to the next page to look at Aiba’s bloodwork.   
  
 _No infection, anemia or electrolyte imbalance. Hmm… that's unexpected._  
  
Nino turned back to read the admission note more carefully.   
  
 _‘Brought to ER after “passing out from a severe headache”_  
  
 _Six-month history of steadily worsening headaches, self-medicated with aspirin_  
  
 _Unexpected 10 kg weight loss in the past month…_  
  
 _No fever, chills, nausea, neck pain, vertigo or changes in vision/hearing.’_  
  
Nino frowned. He wasn't liking the list of differentials that was taking shape in his mind; there were just a few things that were rather unnervingly possible, and they were rising alarmingly in likelihood as he continued to read down the page.  
  
"Hey, sensei, why the grim face?” The handsome eyes were now staring at him intently, as if trying to read his mind. “Do you know what’s wrong with me? Is it something serious?"   
  
 _Crap, did he notice something?_ Nino tucked his clipboard away quickly and gave an uncertain smile.   
  
"We're still running some tests," he said as reassuringly as he could. “I’ll be back later to let you know.”  
  
He saw Aiba settling back into the pillows as he turned to leave the room, the afternoon sun shining off those curvy lips as they moved merrily to the tune of the soothing 3 pm background music that always played in the wards.   
  
He really hoped it wasn’t what he suspected it was.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
 _Shit._  
  
Nino closed the MR image on his computer screen and logged off, his normally agile fingers fumbling slightly over the keyboard as a sickening feeling began to creep up from the depths of his stomach.  
  
It was exactly what he had suspected. Aiba Masaki had a glioblastoma growing in his brain.  
  
Nino didn’t know why that upset him so much. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen brain cancers (or worse diseases) before, even in people he was acquainted with. But for some reason, his stethoscope was beginning to feel like a lead weight on his neck, and his arms were beginning to tingle with something that felt shockingly like fear.   
  
Median survival for glioblastomas, with treatment, was just a little over a year.   
  
And that was just the _median_. What he’d just seen on that MRI looked… uglier than the usual glio, by far. The tumor was not particularly large, but it had already started growing those tentacle-like projections, making it just about as operable as a butterfly’s wing, and its location, smack in the middle of the right cerebellum, was also worrisome to the doctor.   
  
 _No neurosurgeon is ever going to operate on this. And they’d be right not to._  
  
Survival, in this case, was probably more like seven to eight months. Or less.   
  
 _Probably less._  
  
Nino took a deep, rattling breath to calm his nerves. Beside him, his colleague Matsumoto looked up curiously.   
  
“What’s up, Nino? Got a mystery case?”  
  
Nino stood up, almost defensively, and tucked his patient notes into one of the overstuffed pockets of his white coat.   
  
“Oh no, it’s nothing, really. Just a glioblastoma.” For some reason, he really didn't feel like talking about this with anyone.   
  
A knowing light entered Matsumoto’s dark eyes, and he nodded appreciatively.  
  
“Yeah, I just saw the MR for that patient. Interesting, right? It’s not every day that you see a glio in the cerebellum. Wonder if he has any special family history or something...” The taller doctor looked inquiringly at Nino, but Nino gave no reply.  
  
“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about him for too long." Matsumoto said after a brief silence. "He’s a case for the hospice.”  
  
Nino made an uncomfortable noise of assent. He knew Matsumoto was just making normal doctor conversation, but for some reason, it really made his hair stand on end to hear Aiba Masaki being referred to as a “case for the hospice.”  
  
“Excuse me, I need to check on him now,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice level.   
  
“All right, let me know if you find anything interesting!” His colleague chimed airily as he walked out of their shared office.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Nino had never felt this wretched about breaking bad news to a patient before. It was like he was an awkward medical student all over again, tripping over a nervous jumble of words on his first day at the hospital.   
  
By contrast, Aiba seemed to be taking the news remarkably well. Better than Nino, at any rate. The doctor watched him stretch his long, slender limbs out past the edges of his bed and was bewildered to find a teasing flicker in those chocolate eyes as they looked back up at him.   
  
"So…you’re not even going to offer me a hug?" He smiled lightly into Nino's worried face, scratching at where the hospital socks irritated his skin.  
  
He really didn't  _look_ like he was about to die, Nino thought, blushing slightly. In fact, the man was sitting upright with a rosy bloom in his cheeks, and if Nino hadn’t already triple-checked the MRI to make sure that it was the right name on the file, he’d never have guessed that there was a fast-growing cancer lurking somewhere in the back of this man’s head.  
  
“Sensei? My hug?”   
  
Aiba was pouting now, looking alarmingly gorgeous and comical at the same time.  
  
Well, there was no way out of it  _now_.  
  
Nino hesitated for only a moment, and then walked over to put a nervous arm around the narrow shoulders of his patient. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he’d never hugged anyone like this before. It was amazing, the details one could see when the distance was so minimal. Like the mole on Aiba's cheek. Nino couldn't help but stare at the little dot of imperfection. He'd never noticed it before...  _So oddly beautiful_...  
  
“Ah~ so warm...”  
  
There was a happy sigh, and the doctor’s flesh almost jumped out of his skin when he felt two arms snaking around his chest and a shaggy head burrow itself devotedly into the space between his heart and his chin.   
  
He  _really_  hoped that Aiba wasn’t able to hear the mortifying acceleration of his pulse.  
  
"W-why didn't you see a doctor sooner, Aiba-san?” He patted the man’s beautifully styled hair with an uncertain hand. “You must have felt some fatigue or weight loss, or nausea..."  
  
“Work,” was the answer that came muffled somewhere just above his collarbone. “I figured it was just because I was overworking myself. I don’t hire a lot of help, you see…”  
  
 _And how many times have I heard that excuse?_  Nino felt almost angry to hear it again, but kept silent.   
  
Aiba must have felt him stiffen, though, because he squeezed Nino tighter like he was afraid he’d lose him, and pressed his nose right up into the little tufts of hair that covered the doctor’s impish ears.   
  
"You smell of my shampoo." He hummed contentedly. "I can't tell you how much I miss it already, the smell of fresh shampoo. Do you always use mine?" He took another deep whiff of Nino's hair, and the doctor's cheeks burned scarlet at the presumptuous intimacy.   
  
" _Ahem_ , well, It works best for my hair."   
  
He extricated himself from the warmth of the other man’s arms and began examining the nurse’s bedside chart in the most professional manner he could muster.   
  
Aiba just laughed softly, his eyes never leaving Nino's face.  
  
"I'll leave you a lifetime supply when I write my will, sensei."   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They joked with each other over the next few days, because Aiba seemed to think that this whole dying business was just one big joke.  
  
 _He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen_ , the doctor thought, and immediately chastised himself for thinking that. It was never wise to get too attached to a patient, he told himself.  
  
Yet still, he couldn’t stop himself from looking forward to every check-up with Aiba. And sometimes, on lighter days, he’d even drop by the hairdresser’s room when there was nothing scheduled at all.   
  
The initial shyness had quickly worn off, and it was like Aiba now had some sort of magnetic pull for him, something that made it impossible to stay away or stay aloof.  
  
And besides, Aiba never had any friends or family over to visit. Nino had noticed that. He couldn’t believe it at first, couldn’t believe that someone as friendly and open as Aiba had no one, not a  _single_  person, who cared that he was dying. But as he spent more time with the man, he began to see the hidden loneliness that lurked behind the playful eyes, the trace of a pout that lingered just a fraction of a second longer than the residues of a joke.  
  
Nino guessed that Aiba didn’t have any family.   
  
He guessed that  _he_  was the closest thing Aiba had to a family now.   
  
For some reason, that made his fingers tingle with a strange sensation of pity and delight.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Ow! What the hell did you just stick into my hip, sensei? A pitchfork?!"  
  
Nino gave a chuckle at the exaggerated expression of fury on Aiba's face.   
  
"Just payback, for that entire month I had to spend with golden hair thanks to your screw-up."   
  
Aiba grimaced as Nino removed the needle. "I knew you resented me for it!"   
  
"It's forgiven now," Nino patted the puncture site with a sterile pad and bandaged it up deftly. "All my younger patients kept flirting with me, so it wasn't too bad."   
  
Aiba attempted to kick his draping sheet at Nino, but almost immediately winced as a sharp pain shot from where the needle had just been inserted into his hip.   
  
"I could sue you for abusing our doctor patient relationship to settle personal grievances."   
  
Nino's face was covered with an idiotic grin as he draped the sheet back over Aiba's bare butt.   
  
"You wouldn’t do that," he said, and not knowing why, he added, "You like me too much."   
  
Aiba rolled back onto his back and looked intently at the vials of thick red liquid that the doctor had just extracted from his bone.   
  
"Well," he sighed with mock-resignation after abysmally failing to give a cheeky wink. "You  _are_  the only person who's ever seen my butt all exposed and naked like that."   
  
Nino just snickered and pressed a button for the nurse to come collect the vials.   
  
In a secret part of his brain, though, he wondered if what Aiba said could possibly be true. What were the chances of a 31-year-old as good-looking as Aiba being innocent and untouched down  _there_?  
  
 _Now that’s the type of thing I could_ really _get sued for._  
  
Nino bit back a giggle, his heart fluttering at the freakishly dirty way his mind worked when he was around Aiba.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Ahahahaha, faster, Nino, faster!”   
  
Nino didn’t know when Aiba stopped calling him “sensei,” but he supposed that on some level, they had never been in a true doctor-patient relationship. Aiba hated being called a patient. And Nino never felt like a doctor when he was around Aiba.   
  
Because really, what kind of doctor would be in a deserted clinic in the middle of the night, pushing his soon-to-die patient across the hallway at breakneck speeds in a  _swivel chair_?   
  
“Come on, Nino, I said  _faster_!” The man was thumping on his armrests with both hands curled into petulant fists, the laughter still echoing down the tiled halls like a trail of bubbles racing each other to get to where the light ended and the darkness began. And that's just what Aiba was: laughter, action and frivolity; it was impossible to get him to stay still.   
  
“You gotta let me catch my breath first, Aiba-san,” Nino panted, bent over in exhaustion with one hand on the back of the chair.   
  
 _How long have we been going at it? Half an hour? Forty-five minutes?_  
  
Time never worked the way it usually did when he was with Aiba. It either stopped, like that day when they first hugged and he had seen Aiba's cute litle cheek mole, or it flew, like the afternoon where they had done nothing but play video games against each other in the pediatrics lounge (Aiba had won, but only because Nino had let him). Nino wished it would stop more often, though. Sometimes, he even wished that it would just freeze altogether and that he and Aiba would be stuck with their mouths open in silly, raucous laughter for all of eternity. At least then, he and Aiba could be together forever.   
  
 _God, I need to stop being such a fanciful sap. It’s not like I’m in love with him or anything!_  
  
Nino shivered as his panting subsided, and Aiba’s mischievous fingers began to sneak towards his cheeks, making playful pinching gestures as they closed in.   
  
“Nino.” The chocolate eyes crinkled merrily, making Nino's insides melt. “You have such pinchable…pin- mm?  _pinch_ able… _pinchable_ … mm?  _pin_ -”  
  
It was only after the third successive “pinchable” that Nino realized something was wrong.  
  
 _No, no... please no... not now... at least give him another month before..._ this _._  
  
Aiba’s eyes were confused, his beautifully slanting brows furrowed with effort as his fingers jabbed aimlessly, pinching the air around the doctor’s heated cheeks.   
  
“Nino,” he cried, when his fingers, no longer playful, reached out again, only to end up pinching another desperate patch of thin air. “Nino, I c-can’t… I can’t reach… your cheeks!”  
  
Nino felt his heart plunge in a free fall to the pits of his feet.  _No, no..._  
  
Slowly, he grabbed Aiba’s trembling wrist and instinctively pressed it up to his cheek, a lump growing in his throat as he felt the lost fingers curling around his face like drowning insect legs that had just bumped up against a piece of driftwood.   
  
“There, there, Aiba-san,” he cooed softly, though he knew his voice was shaking just as much as Aiba's weakened hand. “You’ve got my cheek now, my pinchable, pinchable cheek… and Aiba-san can pinch it all he likes…”  
  
The chocolate eyes were still wide with fright, and the pale face upturned to gaze at him from where it was pressed against the back of the now stationary swivel chair.   
  
“Nino…” The thin voice choked as the fingers slackened and slid bonelessly to graze the tip of Nino’s pointed chin. “My hand… I couldn’t make it go where I wanted… I couldn't...”  
  
“Shhhh,” Nino whispered, tightening his grip on the limp wrist. “It’s all right, it’ll be just temporary. I’ll increase your meds, and we’ll get you some phys-”  
  
His words were galloping on and on, his mind trying desperately to block the inevitable truth from surfacing when Aiba interrupted him from his curled up spot in against the back of the chair.  
  
“No.” The hairdresser's voice was a low, almost wistful, murmur. Nino's lips froze at once.  
  
Wearily, Aiba closed his eyes and squeezed them shut until little wrinkles appeared around the corners. Nino thought he saw a little wet tear threatening to spill out from between the dark lashes, but perhaps that was just imagination, because  when Aiba opened his eyes again, they were full of a playful, dancing light.  
  
Just like before.   
  
“Silly Nino- _sensei_ ,” he giggled, weakly pinching the worried cheeks. “I have cancer, you know. It’s not going to be temporary. It's  _supposed_  to get worse… and soon, I won't be able to pinch Nino's cute little face like this anymore."   
  
He laughed, sending more effervescent trails of happiness echoing down the deserted halls of the clinic. Nino didn't think he'd heard anything more hollow-sounding or heartbreaking in his life.   
  
“Now you’ve caught your breath; push me faster, Nino! I want to fly! Vroom vroom!”   
  
His long legs bounced up and down with the same childish excitement as before, urging the doctor to move, to run, and to fill the stale air with whoops of exhilaration once again.   
  
 _How can I say no to him?_  
  
Nino clasped both hands around the back of the swivel chair and took a deep breath.   
  
“Fasten your seatbelt, Aiba-san.” He smiled his best professional-chauffeur-smile as his patient beamed in his seat and mimed the fastening of a seatbelt.   
  
“Okay, ready? Heeeeerrrreee we goooooo~!”  
  
He sprinted down the corridor like a blast of winter wind, the flurry of running footsteps mingling with the exultant cries of a giggling hairdresser. He would remember it always: the flailing limbs, the windswept hair, the whirring wheels, the straggle of lights, and the laughter. Oh, the laughter. Nino knew he wasn't ever going to hear such sad, sad laughter in his life again.  
  
Aiba kept shrieking like he was having the time of his life: "The wind! We've turned into the wind!" until he finally broke down towards the end, and the weepy gods finally caught up to him and choked his bright voice into uncontrollable sobs.  
  
"Mnff, Nino," he hiccuped and gasped as they finally came to a stop. "We...we were ma-magic-cal..."  
  
Nino's whole heart collapsed like an avalanche.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Aiba was worsening a lot quicker than Nino had feared. Within weeks, his motor coordination had deteriorated so much that he could barely walk, even with one of those four-legged walkers that old people used, and his hands were even worse. He couldn't even hold a spoon to feed himself anymore, or to flip the pages of the mangas he usually liked to read. So he mostly stayed in bed, or in the cushy recliner by the window of his room, watching his little TV or just staring out the window at the people walking below.  
  
“I feel like I’m a hundred years old, Nino.” He chuckled one day, and hugged his pillow closer to his chest. “Are my roots turning white, too? That’d be horrible, you know, for a hairdresser to have white roots…”  
  
“They’re still black. As black as ink,” Nino reassured him, handing him a little mirror and watching with a swollen lump in his throat as Aiba’s fingers had to scramble to find the handle, even though he had placed it right up against his thumb and forefinger.   
  
“My roots are growing out,” complained Aiba, as soon as he held the mirror shakily up to his face. “I look like a caramel chocolate cake.”   
  
“Well, it’s been a while since you dyed your hair, hasn’t it?” Nino said conversationally while he tapped lightly on Aiba’s spine and swept a practiced hand over the lymph nodes in his neck.   
  
“Yeah, since I began living here in the hospital.” Aiba let the mirror drop in his lap and pouted up at the doctor. “I’m going to die looking like a caramel chocolate cake, aren’t I?”   
  
Nino really didn’t think it was fair how Aiba could talk like that, as if dying was nothing, or at least, nothing compared to the horror of unfashionable hair. Because Nino didn’t give two farts about hair. Nino just wanted Aiba to live and be by his side and he could do whatever silly things he wanted to with his hair, as long as he was alive. But of course, he could say none of that aloud, so he just re-draped the hairdresser’s bare back with the hospital gown and let him settle back to rest.  
  
“Caramel chocolate cake is delicious,” he told him. “And totally in style this season.”  
  
Aiba laughed, like he knew Nino was lying, but Nino saw the gratified glint shining bashfully in those eyes.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was December in the blink of an eye. Aiba’s window was framed with snow and outside, the city lights shone more and more vibrantly with each passing night as they neared Christmas. Reindeer flashing in shop windows, skyscrapers glowing in flowing gradients of red and green, trees webbed with shimmering icicle lamps…   
  
Nino had bought a little baby pine to put by Aiba’s bed. He didn’t like spending money, and it was probably the first time in his life that he’d given anyone a Christmas gift, but it hadn’t seemed like a big deal at all to do it for Aiba.   
  
They spent most of Nino’s morning off decorating the stubby branches together, Nino holding Aiba’s hands steady and guiding them to loop each ornament over the prickly pin-like leaves.   
  
“Here you go.” Nino patted the golden orb that they had just hung onto the tree with their intertwined fingers and grinned at Aiba’s delicately beautiful face. "All done and ready for Christmas!"  
  
“That gold's a nice color,” said Aiba with twinkling chocolate eyes. “Like golden hair on Nino.”  
  
 _He likes colorful things,_  Nino noticed _. Colorful hair, colorful pillows, glittery, colorful lights…_  
  
“Maybe I’ll dye it again,” smiled the doctor. “On purpose, not by accident.”  
  
“Mmm,” Aiba answered thoughtfully, not letting go of Nino’s hand. “You’ll be easier to recognize then… you know, for when I eventually turn into a ghost or something.”  
  
 _Ghost?_  
  
Nino’s smile froze, and he looked deep into Aiba’s eyes, his heart racing.  
  
“You’d look for me, Aiba-san?” he asked softly. "As a ghost?"  
  
Aiba chuckled, and clumsily reached a hand out to pinch Nino’s colored cheek. The fingers barely made it to the skin, and the pinch was so forceless that it felt more like a stroke.   
  
“Of course,” the hairdresser replied with a playful pout. “Who else would I haunt?”  
  
Nino had always been good at keeping the tears in, but at that moment, not even he could bite down and suppress a little quaver in his lower lip.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Christmas Eve was Aiba’s birthday, and Nino watched as his patient turned his head slowly to gaze at the wonderland of lights outside his window. An angelic smile spread over the hairdresser’s face as the colorful skyline reflected off his pupils like the lights of a carnival in a young boy's awed eyes.  
  
He’d been smiling a lot these days, Nino noticed. _Smiling more, laughing less._  
  
Nino missed his laughter. That, and his lame comebacks and pouty whines, but there was nothing he could do about that. He supposed that he should just be glad Aiba was still happy, and that he had lived long enough for Nino to celebrate at least one birthday with him.  
  
They were alone in his ward again, remnants of the little cake Nino had bought littering the usually clean bed. Feeding him cake had been messy business, but there was no feeling Nino liked more than having Aiba propped up close to him so that he could see that adorable mole stretch tantalizingly as Aiba opened his mouth for every spoonful. They had finished the cake now, and Nino was rinsing the dishes in the bathroom sink while Aiba lay in bed, resting.  
  
“Hey, Nino…” The voice sounded weak, so weak. Nino was at the bedside in an instant.   
  
“Yes, Aiba-san? Did you want anything?” He let his hand rest on the bed, and smiled when he felt the hairdresser’s long fingers creep over to find it and clutch at it.   
  
“Home,” the man whispered. “Wanna go… home…”  
  
“But Aiba-san, we still need to monitor you and-”  
  
“No, no monitors…” Aiba squeezed his hand with the little strength he had left. “No medicine, either... Wanna go home… to end...”   
  
He gave an ethereal little sigh and blinked up at Nino, the chocolate eyes rich and imploring.   
  
“Wanna end… at home…  _With Nino_ …”  
  
A tear began to well out over his long lashes and down the side of his cheek.   
  
“Blew candles… birthday wish…”  
  
Nino sank into the chair beside his bed, their hands still connected.  
  
To be honest, Nino had expected something like this. It had been an ever-present source of dread since the day he first diagnosed Aiba, and it haunted him every day. The letting go. The last stretch. The final coma. And then, the flatline.  
  
He thought he’d be crying his lungs out when Aiba finally made this request. He thought the floor would shake under him and his world would collapse like a monumental bridge being swallowed by a raging sea when Aiba finally gave up and decided to let go.  
  
But surprisingly, Nino felt calm. Perfectly calm.  
  
He looked at Aiba, at the beautiful, dying Aiba, and at the edge of the bed where their hands still rested, clasped in each other.  
  
 _It is time, after all._  
  
He let go of Aiba, and took off his white coat, removing the ID card hanging from his neck, and nodding at the glistening chocolate eyes that were still fixed on him.  
  
"Come on, Aiba-san." He pulled one of Aiba’s arms around his neck and supported the man’s wasting body on one shoulder. He was light, unbelievably light. "One last ride?"   
  
Weakly, Aiba nodded back and gave the biggest grin his dying facial muscles were still capable of giving.   
  
"One last ride, sensei." 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware that no one really does a bone marrow biopsy for assessing brain cancer (it’s more for diagnosing leukemias), but I couldn’t resist letting our Nino-sensei get a peek at Aiba’s gloriously exposed buttocks, so I stuck that scene in there. And don’t quote me on any of the medical stuff in general, because a lot of it was twisted to fit the story!


End file.
